Chapter 35: Causation Implied

~ Jaden sat still in the middle of the clearing, knees drawn up to his chest, quietly thinking. Andrew worked his way methodically and obsessively around the clearing, building fires until they were surrounded by burning pits, the bower flooded with flickering, orange light. Andrew stood for a minute gazing into his creations, then started his circumnavigation of the clearing for a second time, to keep the fires fed. Jaden finally spoke up.

"You do realize that we're pretty clear targets right in the middle of all this light?" Andrew paused for a moment.

"Clear targets for what?" Jaden shrugged.

"I don't know. Just saying."

"Yeah well, regardless of what it could be, I prefer not to fight in the dark," said Andrew resolutely. He spun around to face Jaden. "Why'd he take just Takyle?" Jaden blinked at him.

"He said he had a task just for her..."

"That's bullshit! We should be able to choose who goes." Andrew began to pace. Jaden tried out a calming tone of voice.

"Well, we were never guaranteed that we would always be able to work together, or have the opportunity to choose who did what. Besides, I'm sure she's just fine! Väinämöinen isn't going to hurt her. If she failed the task he'd just bring her back here." Andrew snorted derisively.

"You don't know that any more than I do."

"Actually," disagreed Jaden. "I think I do know better than you in this case." Andrew studied him for a moment.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," he finally conceded, and came to sit down next to Jaden. "So uh, how're ya doing?" Jaden looked over at him and smiled, regaining some of that awkwardness that was so intrinsically him when it came to interpersonal relationships.

"Fine...How are you?"

"I'm good. Really good. Enjoying this race thing." Andrew deftly returned the conversation to what he'd originally intended to cover. "So how do you feel about Takyle?"

"Um, she's...nice?" Jaden studied Andrew's face for some hint as to what he was looking for. He was reminded vividly of the first time he'd ever spoken with Andrew.

Two years prior, Jaden had stood on the street corner by the store Andrew's uncle owned with Andrew in front of him, staring at him with the captivating gaze that Jaden would eventually grow accustomed to.

"How old are you?" Andrew had demanded. To this day Jaden wasn't sure why he'd answered.

"Seventeen." He'd meant to say it with rebellious, in-your-face overtones, but it hadn't quite come out that way. Andrew had studied him for a few moments further.

"My name is Andrew Vienna," the tall young man had stated matter-of-factly. Jaden remembered staring at him trying to work out why the hell he was being told that, and what this guy could possibly want. Andrew's face had been unreadable. He'd just continued to gaze at Jaden with passive, thoughtful deliberation in his eyes. Jaden had felt like he was being sized up. He'd felt uncomfortable. He'd thought about just walking away but....didn't. He'd fingered the switchblade in his pocket and for the first time it felt foreign and barbaric to his hand.

"Where do you live?" Andrew had asked, and for the first time in his short life Jaden felt ashamed to say.

"1657 West Hamilton," he'd murmured, breaking eye contact to casually glance at the sidewalk.

"That's down by the tracks? Live with your parents?" pressed Andrew.

"My dad." Jaden was fairly sure that Andrew had to have caught the trace of venom lacing those two words. He didn't say anything though.

"Want a job?" Jaden remembered staring at Andrew. He'd noticed that his mouth was open, and closed it. He'd searched Andrew's face for...anything. A trace of maliciousness. Proof that he was joking. Anything other then the sincerity that couldn't possibly be real. Turned out it was though. The corner of Andrew's mouth had twitched upwards in amusement. Jaden felt that he should be angry, but it wasn't mocking. It was just...Andrew. The expression suited his face.

That morning Jaden had begun working in the store owned by Andrew's uncle. That afternoon Andrew had begun training with him for the Bilken Race. That evening Jaden had walked home with his mind only half on his surroundings. The other half was on a life that he'd never had cause to imagine himself a part of. West Hamilton Avenue had turned into a tiny and insignificant speck on the face of the globe. Knowing Andrew had opened a portal to another world.

That night his father had beaten him for what turned out to be the last time. Jaden went to his room afterwards, gathered his two extra pairs of jeans, the several books that he owned, and the compass that had been his grandfather's, and stuffed them all into the backpack that had, at some point, been red. He'd pushed his bed over to the corner and stood on it to reach the marred and aged wooden trim up next to the ceiling. Prying it loose with his fingernails, he pulled from behind it the small roll of bills that represented all the money he'd ever been able to save and hide from his father, and pushed it into his pocket.

Jaden had walked down the hall to the claustrophobic living room where his father was watching television with a glass of gin in one hand and the remote control in the other. With his heart in his throat Jaden had spoken to his father.

"I'm leaving now. I'll not be coming back."

Without taking his eyes from the TV screen, Jaden's father showed his son his middle finger.

Jaden turned and walked out, down the fragile apartment stairs, and out into the world. ~